Skipping Gym Class
by Neocarleen
Summary: Kenny had only planned on dying to skip gym class, but witnessing it destroys Kyle.


**Skipping Gym Class**

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><p>The wind was picking up, wisps of it sneaking into the open crevices and various tears in his worn out jacket. A sudden gust caught under his unsecured hood and pulled it back. Kenny didn't bother to stop it from easing back over his skull, instead stretching his arms from his sides, daring the wind to pick him up and carry him away. He didn't doubt that it could; he usually had bad luck when it came to deadly forces of nature. Kenny closed his eyes and drooped his head forward, waiting for his execution, whether it be a sudden tornado or simply a loss of balance.<p>

"Oh my god! Kenny!" Kenny dared to open his eyes and turn his head, hoping the cautious movements didn't tempt fate. Kyle stood in the doorway of the school roof access. Something that looked like a homemade weather vane lay discarded and forgotten at his feet. His eyes were wide and panicked, his voice hysteric, "What are you doing?"

"Go back downstairs, Kyle," Kenny sighed, "this doesn't matter."

"Yes it does! We can talk about this! Please Kenny, just step away from the ledge." Kenny said nothing. He had no intentions of leaving his dangerous perch, at least not the way Kyle wanted. He had spoken the truth, it didn't matter at all. In a few hours he'd wake up in his bed again and nobody would remember seeing him come up here. He turned his back to Kyle again, resuming his delicate, precarious balance. Kyle continued to beg Kenny to come back, and Kenny listened, albeit with disinterest.

"Think about your mom and dad! What would they do if you were gone? They love you. And your brother; they all need you, Kenny." Kyle urged, "If it's about your family's money, we- we could change things." Kenny couldn't help but smile. Kyle was smart; probably the smartest in their class, but the McCormick family's poverty was not a problem that could be solved by finding _x_ or the maximum area of a triangle. It was their life, eternally cursed. But Kyle continued to ramble on empty promises of luxurious wealth, "Things will get better. You won't always have to eat frozen waffles for dinner."

"It's not about the money," Kenny broke though Kyle's drivel. He could almost hear a sigh of relief at a response. "It's not about my family either. They're doing fine." Kenny leaned forwards, looking for a spot to aim at. The wind obviously wasn't going to be enough. He might as well just jump.

"What about us, Kenny? What about me?" Kyle's voice cracked at the last syllable. That was it. Kenny swung around, careful not to teeter off the edge. At some point Kyle had fallen to his knees in a pleading bow, his cheeks streaked with tears. Kenny rushed towards his broken friend, forgetting his suicide plan, and embraced him. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry for the poor boy. Kenny had only planned on dying to skip gym class, but witnessing this had destroyed Kyle.

"It's okay, Kyle," Kenny attempted to soothed him, "I'm not going to kill myself." Not today, he thought, but mentioning that certainly wasn't going to help matters.

"You can't die." Kyle wept, but his voice was urgent and commanding.

"I wish I could."

The irony was wasted on Kyle. "Don't say that."

"I mean it, Kyle. I have to deal with so much _shit_." The strong gales had died down as soon as he had left the ledge, Kenny realized, and his words seemed to echo in the still air.

So much shit.

Sudden pain exploded in his jaw. Kenny fell to a defensive crouch, holding his stinging cheek in his gloved hand. Kyle towered above him, clenched fist still raised. The terror that had controlling him moments again was gone and replaced by righteous fury. Now that Kenny was out of immediate danger, Kyle apparently held no reserved over reacting violently. "What the hell are you doing?" Kenny roared.

"You listen to me, and you listen good, because I'm not going to say it again." Kyle pointed in Kenny's face, emphasising his warning. Kenny shied away, expecting another blow.

"You think you've got it tough?" Kyle continued bitterly, "You think you're the only one who's cursed in this town? You're not. We're all here. We all have to fight to survive this town." He lowered his head humbly, and Kenny looked away. "We wouldn't have gotten this far without you. We're a group, a team. We do everything together. We-"

"It's because of me," Kenny interjected, "bad things happen to me around you guys."

"Bad things happen to ALL OF US!" Kyle spun around and kicked the door with an echoing smack. "Damn it, Kenny! You think your life is so hard that being dead would be a better alternative? What about us, Kenny? It won't end with you. We'll still be here, still be fighting."

Kyle stood motionless, still facing the door. There was a small dent where his boot made contact. Guilt swelled up in Kenny's stomach like nausea. "Kyle..." he began, but paused. There were no words to explain the horror of what he just put his friend though, and no words to make it better. "I'm sorry," he apologized gingerly. Nobody was supposed to notice his fall, but the fact that somebody would be worried or actually care about his fate troubled him. Usually no one remembered his deaths, and it never occurred to him that anybody would be sad about them.

"Promise me you won't do that again." Kyle said, turning away from the door and towards Kenny with a slight limp. Kenny realized he was still crouching from the recoil and stood up to meet his friend.

"Alright," Kenny agreed, if only to ease Kyle's fears, "I promise not to jump off the school roof in a suicide attempt."

Kyle crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "That's not good enough. Promise you won't die."

If only you knew, Kenny smiled pensively. "I can't promise you that."

"Yes you can!" Kyle insisted stubbornly, "Promise me that you'll try to live."

"Okay," Kenny complied. That was vague enough to agree on. If there was one thing Kenny was good at, it was living. "Against all odds, against all the _shit_ this town throws at me, I promise that I will live." It sounded sarcastic, he knew, but it was a legitimate promise. Kyle's shoulders slumped in defeat; he didn't believe him, but it was no longer worth arguing over.

An awkward silence fell over the two. The moment was over, and the crisis had passed.

"Is your foot okay?" Kenny asked, breaking the stillness.

Kyle tried putting weight on the injured limb and inhaled sharply. "It's fine," he lied though his pain, "Let's go back inside. It's cold out here."

Kenny nodded and they turned towards the door. He picked up the abandoned weather vane. "There's a crack in it," he frowned.

"Oh, don't worry. That wasn't from... before." Kyle said, distracted.

Funny thing, memory loss is. Was the suicide attempt enough to evoke it, or was Kyle simply choosing not to talk about it again? Was there much of a difference, really? The promise would still be kept, even if the world forgot.

Kyle answered, "Cartman stepped on it." On purpose, his dark scowl seemed to add. "I just came up here to make sure it still worked."

"It doesn't matter," Kenny encouraged, "we'll get through this together."


End file.
